


Endless Laundry

by relenafanel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, Laundry, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 10:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4603983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky had been too distracted looking into the guy’s eyes as they chatted to notice what he was doing with his hands, automatically taking his clothing out of the dryer and doing his best to lean casually against it and look attractive while holding his own underwear.  The man’s name was Steve, and his eyes crinkled wickedly when he made one of the sarcastic comments that made up 60% of their conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Laundry

Bucky had been too distracted looking into the guy’s eyes as they chatted to notice what he was doing with his hands, automatically taking his clothing out of the dryer and doing his best to lean casually against it and look attractive while holding his own underwear.  The man’s name was Steve, and his eyes crinkled wickedly when he made one of the sarcastic comments that made up 60% of their conversation.

Bucky had been too distracted thinking about the man’s mouth, the clever curve of his lips in response to Bucky’s wit to look into his laundry bag as he carried his clean clothing home.  He regretted not asking for a phone number, for allowing his interest to be secondary to enjoying the conversation he and Steve were having, until he realized his mistake in retrospect.

Bucky had been too distracted by being late for his basketball bitchfest with Clint to do more than leave his laundry by his bed, change into a pair of sneakers, and head back out the door.  The idea of either of them actively playing basketball was a joke.  The only time he and Clint ever reached 21 was when they were playing the drinking game.  

Bucky wouldn’t miss it, even for an attractive man who flirted with his whole body and whose mouth looked like sin.

(that was a lie, Bucky totally would have blown Clint off to blow something else with Steve if the offer had been on the table).

x.x.x.

“What the fucking shit is this?” Bucky questioned, holding a pair of underwear in his hands that was his preferred colour but not his preferred brand.  He probably hadn’t checked the washing machine or dryer closely enough to see that it was empty, he rationalized, and black underwear was easy to miss in a laundromat with terrible lighting and ancient machines. There were at least 3 socks in his dresser that he wasn’t sure if he ever owned the match to.

Then he pulled out a shirt that definitely was not his.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered with regret, closing his eyes for a second as he tried to figure out how this had happened.

He knew how it had happened. He’d been distracted.  By Steve, and Steve’s eyes and his mouth and his teeth and his neck and his shoulders and probably his ears.  Steve was a very distracting person.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky emphasized, looking down at the underwear he’d dropped on his floor, wondering if it  _belonged to Steve_.  He poked it with his toe.

Fuck.  A lump of material on his bedroom floor shouldn’t be kind of sexy, especially considering the person they (allegedly) belonged to had never been in the room.

Bucky observed the inanimate pair of boxers for a moment with a disconcerted frown.  He regretted everything, from the way he did laundry at the last possible moment to the way he was semi-considering whether he should try wearing them so he’d have something between his balls and his jeans.

Fuck.

He was going to have to go without, and it had been a while since his college acapella days with the Howling Commandos, even if his pants style had only gotten tighter.

So much regret.

x.x.x.

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. Some might even say he was a sensible person.  He went back to the laundromat with his accidentally stolen laundry, but his own stuff hadn’t been turned in and Bucky was at a loss of how to treat this situation. He could go out and buy a package of new underwear, put this down as a lesson learned, and wear his least favourite clothing until he found replacements for everything.

Or he could take home the stolen laundry, keep wearing the skinny jeans he bought before he started committing himself to leg day, and track down Steve.  He and Steve lived in the same neighbourhood.  It wasn’t like Bucky had never laid eyes on the man in his entire life.  If he thought about it, the one thing he did know about Steve was that every Sunday morning, rain or shine, Steve did yoga in the park for half an hour before and after breaking the sound barrier on his run.

Bucky had noticed. Steve took warnings about loose material causing chafing to heart.

The only problem?

It was Sunday afternoon.

So Bucky wriggled into his pants, zipped up with extreme measures of care, and stomped down to the park.

No Steve.

He repeated the process the next morning, now too stubborn to go buy new underwear like the sensible person he claimed to be.

No Steve.

Tuesday he hit pay dirt.

“Hey!” he yelled, stalking across the grass towards Steve’s ass.  The fact that he knew Steve’s ass from halfway across the park meant nothing. Ok, it meant that Bucky stopped to stare often enough that he recognised it.  It meant that Bucky really should have gotten Steve’s phone number while accidentally shoving the wrong clothing into his laundry bag. Steve straightened and looked behind him, a complicated expression crossing his features that definitely did not resemble flirtation.  He did smile at Bucky, though, tentatively.  “I want my underwear back,” he continued, less loud as he drew closer to Steve.

Steve turned pink.  It wasn’t a delicate blush.  His face flushed immediately and he looked kind of horrified.  “Right now?  _Here?_ ”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond.  His mouth remained opened when he put together the cues Steve was giving him. Bucky gaped for longer than was strictly necessary.  “ ** _Are you wearing them?”_**  he questioned in a high, disbelieving tone.  One of the other things he knew about Steve based on their conversation was that Steve also left laundry to the last minute.

“I can’t run without support,” Steve protested, rationalizing as he stared at Bucky, his eyes running down his body.  Somehow, Steve’s face turned even redder.  “Are you  _not_?” he replied in an incredulous tone.  “ _With those pants?_ ”

Then he licked his lips.

Bucky honestly didn’t know how to respond to that.  “I… what?”

Fuck.  This shouldn’t be some kind of turn on.  It should be gross.  It was gross.  

It was definitely…

Making Bucky want to demand Steve take the boxers off  _immediately._

“Uh…” Steve hedged.  “Yeah, it’s… I’m really sorry.  I’ll wash everything.”

“ _Everything_?” Bucky repeated.

Steve winced and gave a sheepish shrug.  “I’m sorry. I’m kinda… I don’t own a lot of clothes. These  _might_  be your pants?” His expression firmed.  “No. They are.  These are your pants.”

Bucky made the mistake of looking down to check.

x.x.x.

When Bucky woke up the next morning, his foot got tangled in a pair of his own boxers, and he stared down at them before bending over to pick them up.  He threw them at Steve’s face, laughing at Steve’s indignant yelp. “That’s one way to make it less weird,” he pointed out, because he couldn’t really maintain a high ground when Steve’s naked ass was in his bed.  “But I think you probably owe me breakfast.  And I can definitely find you something to wear.  Or you can stay naked.”

Steve threw the boxers back at him.

By the next month, separating out whose underwear belonged to whom wasn’t a priority in Bucky’s life.  He had better things to do with his time.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://relenafanel.tumblr.com/post/126777741663/stevebucky-prompt-we-took-each-others-underwear)


End file.
